


we know how the light works

by electrumqueen



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you’re gonna be like this,” Robert says, “I <i>can</i> just go to the pub.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we know how the light works

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to j for the proofread! without you i'd be drowning in dicks :**** [eggplant emoji]

 

 

It’s raining when Robert gets home. The sky is full grey, miserable and wet; they’re out of winter so at least it’s not slowing, but the rain’s got a sleet edge and it drips down the back of Robert’s jumper and through his hair.

 _did u die_ , says Robert’s phone, the one text he’s gotten from Aaron all day. It’s fine; they’re not the sort of couple attached at the hip.

 _meeting ran over,_ Robert replies, pulling a glove off to unlock the door and let himself in. “Hi honey," he calls, low and sarcastic. "I'm home."

 

Aaron’s sitting on the sofa, in trackies and a hoodie. Something’s on, a low muttering sound in the background, and the TV light makes his face look washed out and pale.

“Aaron?” Robert hangs his coat on the hook, pulls his sweater off over his head, and walks over. Puts the sweater on the arm of the couch and reaches out to touch Aaron’s shoulder.

Aaron looks up at him. His mouth’s a firm line; one of those nights, then. “Took you long enough.”

“I told you,” Robert says, mentally armouring himself. “Meeting ran late.”

Aaron turns his face back to the television. “Ate your tea.”

“All right,” Robert says. He picks up his sweater and folds it for something to do with his hands. “We catered through the meeting.”

“Fine, then.”

Robert almost laughs. It’s so teenage; monosyllables and a blank face and pretending to care about the X-Factor. But laughing will set this off, and it’s at that fragile place where Aaron could go in either direction, so Robert treads carefully. “Missed you.”

Aaron grunts, something that’s probably just intended as acknowledgement but Robert takes as agreement. (You compromise; Aaron’s told Robert he chooses to believe Robert picks fights with waiters in an attempt to show off for Aaron because he just likes Aaron that much, and not because he’s got a fragile ego. Robert felt insulted but has let it go.)

Robert, still standing beside a sitting Aaron, leans down and kisses his forehead. “How was your day?”

Aaron grunts again. A dismissive one, this time.

“If you’re gonna be like this,” Robert says, “I _can_ just go to the pub.”

“If you’re gonna be a prick,” Aaron says, turning the TV off with a snap, “I can just go to bed.” His shoulders are hunched, brittle.

Oh. It’s like _that_.

Robert eases himself onto the couch next to Aaron, settles one hand on his back, between his shoulderblades. He feels Aaron stiffen, temporarily, but then start to loosen up. “Aaron.”

Aaron sighs, and turns his face back to Robert’s, and kisses him. It’s a desperate kind of kiss; Aaron pushing forward, falling into him. Aaron’s hand comes up and tangles itself in Robert’s hair, and despite himself Robert settles his hands on Aaron’s waist, holds him steady, kisses back.

“Aaron,” Robert says, again.

Aaron blinks at him, eyes bright, mouth wet. “I want,” he says; clicks his teeth shut.

“Okay,” Robert says. “Okay.”  He kisses Aaron again, softly, little butterfly kisses against the closed press of his lips, so Aaron has to open up, lean in, sweep his tongue against Robert’s and tighten his hand in Robert’s hair.

Aaron breaks them apart, gasping in air like he needs it. His eyes drop to Robert’s mouth and his mouth is still open, so Robert dips in, closes his teeth over Aaron’s lip and bites down, sharp, just the once, so Aaron jolts against him and groans, very soft.

“Hi, Aaron," he says. 

“Hi, Robert,” Aaron parrots. His breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. His hand is still in Robert’s hair; he fists the other in Robert’s collar and leans back into the couch, pulls Robert on top of him, legs splayed so Robert can get in the cradle of them.

God, this is good. It’s been long enough that it’s familiar, the way they fit together: Aaron’s thighs spread so Robert can grind against his stomach, the v of his legs, the hot hardness of his dick in his trackpants. But it hasn’t been long enough that it’s routine; Robert doesn’t think it’ll ever be routine, him and Aaron. Not when he gets hot under the collar just thinking about Aaron, about his mouth, about his hands, about his _arse_ -

God.

Speaking of.

Robert angles his weight to keep Aaron still, and Aaron grabs his hand and pulls it round to his arse, so Robert gets a handful and then drags his waistband down, the elastic an easy give under his fingers.

“Fuck,” Aaron says, hand back on Robert’s side, pushing up at Robert’s top so his fingertips brush over Robert’s skin, and it’s been _so long_ , it’s been a whole day without Aaron’s fingerprints on Robert’s skin. Robert’s never met anyone who ruined him like this with just a touch. Aaron drags his hand along Robert’s side, along his stomach, dipping down to Robert’s waistband, to press the heel of his hand over Robert’s dick, firm and insistent and so, so good.

Robert rolls Aaron’s arse in his hand, presses in, uses it to pull him towards Robert, grins at the way Aaron sighs and tips his head to one side so Robert can kiss his throat and then trace his fingers along the crack of Aaron’s arse, fingertips dragging along the skin and finding-  

“Hey,” Robert says, lifting his head and rolling his hips firmly into Aaron’s hand over his cock, “Aaron, did you-”

Aaron blinks at him, eyes a little glazed. He tugs at Robert’s waistband and dips his hand in, and Robert has to breath out, sharp, as his fingers close bare over Robert’s dick, wrapping around him. There’s not enough room in Robert’s jeans for him to do much, but the touch of him, that’s enough to get the blood rushing through Robert. “Waiting for you, weren’t I? Had to do sommat.”

Robert drags his fingers through the slick at Aaron’s hole and slips two of them in. It’s _easy._ A smooth glide, no resistance. “Fuck.”

Aaron groans and rolls his shoulders, rocking down onto Robert’s fingers. “C’mon,” he says. “I just want-” He’s let go of Robert’s dick, hand in Robert’s hair slipping down to close round his shoulder, fingers digging in tight.

“Okay, okay.” Robert pulls them both upright, Aaron’s legs wrapping round his waist, the momentum carrying Aaron forward so he falls into Robert’s chest. Normally they’d laugh, both of them grinning, but everything feels urgent, frantic. Robert’s good at reading Aaron, that’s why this is what it is, that’s why it’s lasted and why it’s never going anywhere, and right now Robert needs to be inside him.

Aaron sighs and tugs at Robert’s zipper, one-handed, splaying his legs farther apart so he has room to work, and Robert shuffles a little back, shifts his body up, but Aaron’s hands aren’t quite getting the grip they need, he keeps just grabbing and pulling and it’s not quite right. “Fuck,” he says. His tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth.

Cute, Robert wants to say, so Aaron pouts and sulks and goes off in a huff. But now isn’t the time.

“Just - hold still.”

Robert gets up. He lets go of Aaron - it’s like a physical hurt, pulling out of him. Sometimes Robert thinks about just being in him all day. It's an unrealistic fantasy, but a potent one. He wants to hold Aaron just as much as Aaron wants to be held.

Aaron lies back again, half-lidding his eyes to watch Robert, pulling down at his own waistband till his trackies are tangled round his thighs, but then he gives up and just palms his own cock.

Robert stares for a moment - Aaron’s fingers and the red flush of his dick, the tight slick pull of his hand, the sound of flesh on flesh - and then drags his own zipper down, gets tangled in his trousers for a second and has to tear his eyes away from Aaron, from the paleness of his thighs and the shape of his dick.

“Hurry up,” Aaron says, demanding. “I’m not joking.”

“Yeah, I’m trying.” Robert bends, gets his trousers and his underwear off, leaves them in a pile on the carpet. He goes back in to kiss Aaron, get his hand on Aaron’s arse again and dip his fingers in, rub his own cock against Aaron’s hip, feels precome smear across the outside of Aaron’s thigh, his skin hot against Robert. “Better?”

“ _Robert,_ ” Aaron says, biting it out. Like it costs him something to say it.

“How’d you want it?” Robert pulls Aaron up, and they’re kissing, Aaron swaying on his feet into Robert’s chest, Aaron’s hands pulling at the hem of Robert’s top, up and over. Robert breaks the kiss to draw his arms up and let Aaron draw his t-shirt over his head, tossing it like it’s personally offended him. “D’you -”

Robert turns him round, pulls him flush against Robert’s chest; Aaron sighs and rocks against him. Robert drags his dick against the curve of Aaron’s arse, and _fuck_. Every time it’s good. He dips his head and mouths at Aaron’s shoulder, has to push the material of his hoodie out the way but it’s worth it; Aaron tastes like salt and skin and home.

“Wait.” Aaron sighs, still. “Wait, hang on.” He turns back around and kisses Robert, hot and slick, tongues slipping against each other. Robert loves when Aaron kisses him like this, like without Robert he’ll die; it’s good to know the feeling’s reciprocal.

“Okay?” Robert asks, hand on Aaron’s hip. He rubs his thumb over the line of it and feels Aaron shiver.

“Yeah.” Aaron draws him back down onto the sofa, kicks off his trackies and kisses Robert, wrapping one thigh around Robert’s waist, the other braced on the back of the sofa. “Like this.”

Robert pauses and dips a kiss to Aaron’s throat. “I like seeing you, too.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Aaron mutters, dragging his hands along Robert’s side, down to his arse. “Just get in me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Robert pushes Aaron’s thigh up, less because he needs the room and more because Aaron’s eyelashes flutter and he groans, low in his throat, at the press of Robert’s palm against his muscles, rearranging Aaron how Robert wants him. He gives himself a couple of strokes, root to tip, and then - “Fuck.”

Aaron smirks, but then Robert bottoms out and his mouth falls open and his eyes fall shut.

Robert cradles his cheek in one hand, has to, strokes his thumb over Aaron’s lower lip. Breathes in, breathes out.

Fuck.

Normally Robert takes his time with this, fingers Aaron until he’s sobbing, until he’s loose and wet and ready and threatening to rip Robert limb from limb. Aaron never uses as much lube as Robert does, always tighter, always a little burn. But this time he's loose, like he took his time, waiting, like he just wanted Robert to be able to slide right in.

It’s incredible, hot and tight and _Aaron._

Robert groans again thinking about it, Aaron on his front with his arse up and his fingers stuffed up inside himself, getting himself ready for Robert's dick, so he says that, says, “Love when you make things easy for me, Aaron,” and tries one experimental thrust, drawing it out as he pulls back and then slams back in.

“God, do you ever shut up,” Aaron mutters, pushing at Robert’s arse, insistent. But he tightens around him, rocks down hard and insistent. He doesn’t have much leverage in this position but that doesn’t stop him.

Robert gets his hand on Aaron, just rubs around the head, playing with the foreskin, rubbing through it, little pinches that make Aaron hiss and rock his hips upwards, clenching down on Robert’s cock. “Almost never,” he says. “You should know that by now.”

“God,” Aaron says.

“Thanks,” Robert says, pushing Aaron’s foreskin back, running a thumb lightly over the slit for the way Aaron jerks and the way that feels on Robert himself. “Look at you, fuck.”

He shifts from thrusts to little circles, rocking his hips to avoid Aaron’s prostate, just keep him feeling full, keep him feeling good. This is a particular mood; Aaron won’t thank him for coming too soon.

In fact - maybe -

He lets go of Aaron’s dick, moves his hands down to roll Aaron’s balls in the palm of his hand. He stills his own hips.

“Robert,” Aaron says, sharply. “What are you doing?”

Robert hums. “Just getting comfortable.”

“Can you not?"

Robert presses a hand to the middle of Aaron’s chest, weighing him down. Aaron groans and tries to rock up against him, tries to buck-

Hmm.

“Tell me if this isn’t right,” Robert says, thoughtfully, and takes hold of Aaron’s wrists and leans his whole upper body down onto Aaron’s. Most of his weight is still on his knees, on his thighs, but enough of it’s on Aaron to keep him still.

“Robert-"

“How was your day?” Robert asks, keeping his voice low and easy. It’s an effort but a worthwhile one for Aaron’s eyes, flashing, and Aaron’s body tightening up.

Aaron wriggles, tentative at first, then harder. His dick drags against Robert’s belly, sticky, wet. “What are you-”

“Tell me if it’s not right,” Robert repeats. He tightens his grip, shifts a little more of his weight onto Aaron.

Aaron sighs, tightening up around him; his dick jerks. “You’re so- fuck.”

“I need a yes.” Robert drops a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “C’mon. Let me take care of you.”

Aaron shivers. He makes one last attempt - but he’s got no leverage, not with the way his thighs are tangled around Robert, not with Robert’s hands on his wrists. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

He shifts, restless, under Robert; back and forth, side to side.

Robert pins him, properly, and works his dick inside Aaron; steady, easy. He avoids Aaron's prostate, avoids anything sudden. He just wants Aaron to feel this, to feel _full_ , to feel surrounded. He wants Aaron to breathe in, to know that Robert isn’t going to let him go.

“Robert,” Aaron says, a sigh, and something in him _gives_. And Robert knows he’s got it right; knows it like a punch to the gut. There’s nothing he knows like he knows Aaron.

Robert swallows and presses his fingertips against Aaron’s skin and leans down, brushes his lips over Aaron’s forehead. “I’m here,” he murmurs. “Now, always. Forever.”

Aaron exhales, half a laugh. He tucks his face into Robert’s shoulder, and Robert feels the wetness of his mouth working against Robert’s throat for a moment, just little exhausted kitten licks that make Robert shiver, all through. “You can touch me now.”

Robert hums and lets go of one wrist, trails his fingertips along Aaron’s chest, tweaks at a nipple and bites at his shoulder until Aaron’s moving again, rolling under his body. He's not trying to push Robert off but just to _move._ “Okay?”

“You know it is,” Aaron says. His hips work in short little shifts and his free hand is tight on the sofa cushion underneath him.

Robert would be lying if he said he was just doing this for Aaron's benefit. The way Aaron gives into him - it's intoxicating, always has been. From that first look in the layby, that first time they shared breath.

Robert understands that in most of their relationship they're on even footing, equals, but in a crisis, when push comes to shove, Robert's going to act and Aaron's going to follow and both of them like it like that. This isn't quite that; it's just a bad day. But Robert wants this as much as Aaron does, to take Aaron and make him feel good and remind him that he's Robert's.

“I thought about you at work today,” he says, thumbing over Aaron's nipple, pinching down harder when Aaron gasps. “Had this meeting, went on for ages. Total nightmare. Had this one new investor, he just wouldn’t shut up.” Punctuates it with a kiss, with a drag of his teeth along the slope of Aaron’s shoulder. “Had all these _opinions._ ”

Aaron’s eyelashes flutter. His lips part.

Robert traces little patterns on his stomach, little whorls and loops, and then the shape of Robert’s name, because he’s nothing if not himself.

Aaron is looking at him, eyes half-lidded. Suspicious but accepting; like he doesn’t know what Robert’s going to do, but he trusts that it will be good.

Aaron is always looking at him. This is a truth it took Robert no time at all to learn, but far too long to accept, in gravity, in meaning. In reciprocity.

Here, like this, Aaron barely ever closes his eyes. He's always watching Robert: to keep him, perhaps. To make sure he doesn’t leave; though Aaron knows, now, has to, that Robert never could. Perhaps simply a reassurance, that this is not a dream. That this is for real.

Robert understands that. He was the one who made it difficult and it is still - still he wakes up in the morning some days, and can’t believe it. Can’t breathe for the heavy press on his heart that he knows is _happiness_.

Now, he’s made it almost a game. Can Robert get Aaron so good, drive him so wild, that he’ll shut his eyes to it? Let himself have it?

It’s a game for which he has to pick his timing. Sometimes it unnerves Aaron, dissatisfies him and makes him curl away from Robert, all stiff lines and hungry eyes, and Robert hates that more than anything. He hates that he did that, once upon a time, not so long ago.

(Once, Robert asked him about it, because they try now, to talk about things before they fester. Before Robert lashes out or Aaron lashes inwards.

Aaron said, _it’s not just about you, Rob,_ and looked down at their hands sitting next to each other on the mattress.

And Robert sighed and put his arm round Aaron but didn’t push, otherwise, and Aaron sat there stiff as a board, but let him do it.)

“Just didn’t stop talking,” Robert says, letting his fingertips trail along Aaron’s lower belly, over scar and skin. Then lower.

Aaron shifts, dissatisfied, tries to rock his dick into Robert’s fingers and his arse into Robert’s dick but Robert’s got him pinned; he’s not going anywhere. “Know someone else like that,” he says, eyes bright, voice rough with frustration. “Can’t take a hint, can they. Keep blathering on even when nobody wants to hear it.”

Robert laughs. He presses his palm against Aaron’s hip, down into the sofa, but then edges along to the slope of Aaron’s shaft, the shape of his balls. “Could have used you there, you know.”

Aaron blinks at him, opens his mouth and licks at the corner of it.

Robert wants to kiss him so he does, long and wet and overwhelming. He loves the way Aaron yields: the way all of Aaron’s body has given into him.

“Why?” Aaron says, breathing hard, fingers of his free hand balling into a fist and then uncurling only to roll in again. “Did you miss my brilliant business mind?”

Robert dips his head and mouths at Aaron’s collarbone, applying the slightest bit of pressure that makes Aaron toss his head as his fingers trace along the length of Aaron’s dick and brush, just momentarily, over the head. “You know,” he says, looking at Aaron through his eyelashes, “you don’t give yourself enough credit. You could give any of the blokes I work with a run for their money.”

“You’ve already got your cock in me,” Aaron grumbles, rolling his shoulders, “no need to sweet talk, Rob.” But there’s that softness in his eyes, the softness Robert used to ignore and now treasures every moment of.

“Yeah, but I like doing it.” Robert punctuates it with a circle of his hips, letting himself enjoy that tight, perfect heat. Then he drags his palm all the way down to Aaron's dick and gives him a good long stroke, thumbs over the head through the foreskin hard, just the way Aaron likes it.

Aaron's eyes slam shut, just for a second, and his whole body rolls under Robert's, and he clenches so tight around Robert that Robert can't help thrusting forward once, twice - hard, harder than he meant it, both of them groaning.

"Fuck," Aaron says, panting. His eyes have gone almost black. They fix on Robert’s face with alarming intensity. He’s gone tight, impossibly tight.

Robert pulls his hand back, fingering over Aaron's balls, his inner thighs, alternating feather-light touches with tiny pinches, the occasional slap.

Aaron shudders, doesn’t look away. Aaron always rises to a challenge. Robert loves that about him.

"Thought about having you at work," Robert says, gently, at odds with the way his body presses down into Aaron and his fingers work Aaron over. “Office is all glass. Everyone would know. Could just - put you over my desk, show you off. Bet they’d all be jealous. Die of it.”

Aaron shivers. He’d never admit it, not in his right mind, but he likes this. Needs this: the reassurance,  the affirmation. Robert would never ask him to do it for real, but there’s nothing Aaron pretends to hate and actually loves more than when Robert puts his hand on the small of Aaron’s back in public, introduces him as _my partner my boyfriend my business partner,_ all of it meaning _mine._

It’s getting more and more difficult to stay still, with Aaron clenching erratically around him. Robert bites his lip, tightens his hand on Aaron's wrist.

“Too much?” Aaron asks, raising his hand to settle it on Robert’s hip. He thumbs along Robert's side, light, careful.

Robert’s skin is too tight. There’s - Aaron underneath him, Aaron around him. It’s always overwhelming when he stops to let himself think about it. That’s what Aaron’s always been, always done; caught Robert off-guard, knocked him over with how much Robert wants him. All of him. Every piece.

“Never,” he says. Feels himself smile. “That a no to work, then?”

“Wouldn’t wanna distract you,” Aaron says. “Don't like it up there anyway. Too posh.”

Robert wants to ruin anyone who has ever made Aaron feel less than; but that includes himself, worst criminal of all. So now all he can do is make it up. Show Aaron he's worth more than anything.

“You're better than all of them.” He means it. He always means it. Watching Aaron run a deal is almost as good as sex; watching Aaron light up, confident and calm and in control. He’s wanked to the memory of it more than once.

“Cheers.”

Robert kisses him, fierce this time. “Could do the portacabin if you'd rather. Desk’s not that high but we’d manage. Not like Adam hasn't seen it before.”

“Don't really wanna talk about Adam now, mate.” He’s got a tight little furrow between his eyes and his nails dig into Robert’s skin, holding tight.

“You sure? He’s got that, you know, scruffy sort of charm-”

“ _Robert_ ,” Aaron growls. It’s dead sexy, Aaron riled up, but it’s not what he asked for today so Robert smirks and subsides.

“Remember last week?” Robert asks. He digs his nails into Aaron’s thigh, scores them along the line of the muscle and darts up to Aaron’s balls.“Nicola almost caught me on my knees. Had to hide under there and I thought, what if I just - kept going.”

“You didn’t, though.” Aaron sounds almost disappointed, though Robert thinks from the sullen curve of his lips he's trying for unimpressed. 

“Thought you might kill me,” Robert says, remembering: the heat of Aaron’s skin, the press of Robert’s trousers against his aching dick, how he’d wanted it so badly but he’d held still. How if Aaron had just put his hand in Robert’s hair Robert would have kept going, dignity be damned, everything be damned; it’s Aaron. “Couldn’t suck your cock if I was dead, could I?”

“She was _right there_ ,” Aaron says. He’s breathing shallow, trying to move, but Robert’s got him well pinned.

“Does it matter?” Robert hums, lets himself fuck into Aaron in a couple of lazy, shallow strokes. Aaron’s body tightens up, mouth a thin line. “They’ve all gotta know. Just look at you. It’s all over you, how much I want you. I want them all to know. I’m not ashamed.”

“Fuck off.” Aaron says it like an invitation, like a challenge.

Robert’s really fucking shit at saying no to Aaron. He closes his hand around Aaron’s dick and sets an easy, even pace. Not enough to get Aaron off but enough to ramp this up, to make Aaron feel it. He’s hot under Robert’s fingers, all charged up energy.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, mouth at Aaron’s ear, “I think about taking you out. All those functions you tell me you don’t want to go to, but I think you’d like them, if you’d give em a go. I’d like to dress you up, in a nice suit. Not the blue one.”

“You like the blue one.”

“I _like_ trifle. I wanna buy you a nice suit, a proper one. The kind that - I want everyone to see you like I see you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Only thing in the world,” Robert says, softly. “I wanna get you a suit - black, tailored. Nicer tie.”

Aaron huffs, a laugh. Robert wants to kiss it but he wants to look at the smile on Aaron’s face more; sweetness tempered by arousal. Like he’s torn between being turned on and being charmed, and ended up somewhere in the middle, with a soft mouth and a hot, burning up stare.

“Get to sit in the corner while they measure you up. Make sure no one takes liberties.” He pauses, now, to trace along Aaron’s balls, drag his fingertips lightly across the skin behind them. “You’d look great. You always look great, but - you get this look, sometimes. When I’m looking at you, when you know I’m looking at you. Like you’ve got me eating out the palm of your hand.”

“What, you want me to get an ego like yours?”

“Wouldn’t mind it,” Robert says. “Probably look better on you than it does on me.”

“Is that Robert Sugden, claiming sommat looks better on someone else?”

“You know you’re the exception.”

Aaron sighs. “You were telling me about this suit. About this function.”

Robert kisses his throat. It’s dotted with sweat, now. “Everyone’s staring at you. And you’re with me, and everyone knows that, too.”

“Have you just got a paper bag on, or?”

“I look good too,” Robert says, laughing. “Everyone’s staring at both of us, but mostly at you. And you’ve got your hand on the small of my back, and you lean in, obviously, because you’re a shit liar and you’re crap at being out in public, and you say, _follow me._ ” He’s moving faster, now, can’t help it; the urgent shift of his hips, the perfect fit into Aaron’s body.

Aaron stares at him, digging his hand into Robert’s skin, urging him on. Mouth open, just a little.

Robert kisses him. “You take me to the toilets. Don’t bother to check if anyone’s in there, just - you fuck me up against the wall. You tell me to shut up but I don’t because I never fucking do.”

“Too right, you don’t,” but Aaron’s smiling, sort of fiercely, and he’s rocking down onto Robert’s dick, and into Robert’s hand, and Robert’s tightened his grip, working his thumb over the head through Aaron’s foreskin, just -

“God, you’re a good fuck, you know that? Specially when we’re in a hurry, when you don’t give a fuck. You’d be like that, you’d bite down on my neck so nobody would hear when you came and it wouldn’t matter that it was obvious, where I’d been, who I’d been with. You’d just - send me back out there, spilling out of me. Everyone would look at me and they would know.”

“Fuck,” Aaron says tightly, and he shudders like a wave, whole body rolling, clenching down. “Robert, now. I’m not playing.”

Robert groans, feels it in his throat. “Yeah?”

“Robert,” Aaron snaps. That’s need in his voice, pure and real.

Robert leans forward, settles his weight on Aaron and pulls out, fucks back in. He fucks Aaron hard and sharp and breathless; just lets himself go. He feels like he’s been holding back forever and from the look on Aaron’s face - teeth bared, eyes bright - he’s not the only one.

“Fuck,” Aaron groans, shaking off Robert’s hand on his other wrist to grab hold of him, urge him forward. “Just-”

It’s easy, after that. The easiest thing in the world. To move with Aaron’s body; Robert’s never known anything like he knows Aaron. He's never had anything that made him feel so fucking good.

“I need,” Aaron says, teeth white, “Rob-”

Robert slams in, hand tight on the curve of Aaron’s hip, the other urgent, hard, on Aaron’s dick. “I love you,” he says, and Aaron’s eyes fly shut and his whole body just-

His dick jerks, one last time, and Robert feels him spill across his fingers, across Aaron’s belly and thighs.

It’s so tight, god, the heat of him; Robert could burn alive, Robert is flying directly into the sun and he doesn’t care, he wants this, wants all of it, forever, and Aaron’s let him have it, this is what Aaron wants, too. Robert’s been holding himself so tight but he doesn't have to anymore; this is Aaron, who can take all of him, everything. Aaron, who wants him.

Robert breathes Aaron’s name against Aaron’s cheek, Aaron’s eyelashes dark against his skin, Aaron’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close; Robert’s weighing down Aaron down but Aaron’s the one who’s got him, Aaron’s always been the one to hold him him when nobody else could.

He comes.

 

Afterwards, Robert pulls out, wincing, and slides down Aaron’s body, letting himself go limp.

Aaron settles a hand in Robert’s hair, carding through it gently, while his breathing settles.

"So what's brought this on?" Robert pulls at the bottom of Aaron’s shirt, pulls at Aaron till he sighs and shuffles up so Robert can yank it off, but then, grudgingly, uses it to wipe both of them off.

"Just had a shit day.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Instead of _that’s obvious_. He settles his head into the curve of Aaron's shoulder and lets his body sink into the bare warmth of Aaron's chest. Lets his eyes drift shut and waits for his pulse to even out.

“Not really, no,” but Aaron sighs and strokes a hand along Robert’s neck, along the bare stretch of his spine. "Liv asked if she could move in and I had to say no."

“Why?”

“She can't. She's got a mum. And you and her are like cats and dogs, aren't you?”

“Hey,” Robert says, soft, insistent, lifting himself up so he can look down into Aaron’s eyes. “D’you want it?” Liv’s not his favourite person, but Aaron is. So. That’s that maths.

“She's got a mum,” Aaron says. “I can’t take her away from that.” Unspoken: _not when I never had it._

God, Robert tries not to hold it against Chas. God, he tries.

“She loves you,” he says. “York’s not that far.”

“Robert-”

“I’m not-” Robert shrugs, presses a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, stubble harsh against his lips. “I'm just saying, if you want to talk to Sandra and Liv about it, I'll support you.”

“You hate her. We'd have World War Three in the house in about five minutes.”

“I love you. And she loves you. We'd manage.” He doesn’t think it would be _fun_ , exactly. But he would do it. He’s lived through worse, and this time it would be for Aaron.

“You're not just saying that cause I've just shagged your brains out.”

“You have not!”

Aaron raises an eyebrow and curls his hand round Robert's cock.

Robert jerks away, oversensitive, and hears himself make a sharp, unhappy sound. “I'm just saying,” he says, panting a little. “If you want. I'll make it work. I'd make pretty much anything work for you.”

Aaron looks at him and says, “You really would, wouldn't you?” He says it in a slow and wondering voice, as though it has not always been true.

Robert supposes that’s fair. He swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, Aaron, I would.”

 

 

 


End file.
